Once a King
by Anidori-Kiladra
Summary: Movieverse. Peter and Caspian argue, and Peter has thoughts he does not expect. Later, the fight escalates and there are...feelings. Peter/Caspian.
1. Chapter 1

Once a King

"You are undermining my authority and I will not have it."

Caspian pushed himself off the wall, torchlight flickering over his face, making his eyes glitter. They bore into Peter's, deep brown locking on blue. Peter couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to.

"Your authority?" Caspian asked, walking closer to where Peter stood, one hand resting on the Stone Table. "What authority do you have over Narnia anymore?"

Now Peter pushed himself up and toward Caspian, his fist tightening at his side. "The authority of the High King!" he cried.

They were nose to nose now, Peter standing stiff and tall to meet Caspian's eyes. They darkened as Caspian said, "You will be no king when I rule Narnia."

Peter felt Caspian's breath across his cheekbones, heavy and smoky as the air inside Aslan's How. But his breath entered Peter's brain as the air did not, lodging in the corners of his head as if it were a regiment determined to make camp in hostile territory.

Peter found that he did not know quite how to reply, and said the first thing that came into his head. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia."

Caspian's mouth, so firmly set a moment before, fell open slightly, revealing just how plush and boyish the prince's lips truly were.

Peter yanked his eyes—and mind—away from this unexpected examination if Caspian's lips and pressed his advantage. He took another step toward Caspian, though there was scarcely a breath between them now.

"Would you doubt the word of Aslan?" Peter asked. Caspian stepped back, and Peter took another step forward, until Caspian was pressed flat with his back to the same wall he had left a few moments earlier.

Peter felt intoxicated with his own power, then stopped short as he realized that he had no idea what to do next.

Luckily, Caspian began speaking and Peter found he didn't need to. "Perhaps you are right," Caspian began, and Peter found himself watching the boy's lips again, their perfect motion as they formed words.

Peter shook his head to clear it. "Jolly good then," he said, pushing himself off the wall with one hand. He turned, slightly off balance, but managed to regain his footing without looking like a fool, and strode out of the chamber, carefully not looking behind him to see if Caspian was following.

A/N: I wrote this because I saw _Prince Caspian_ a couple weeks ago, and even though I am an Edmund fangirl for sure, I was basically thinking "Omg, Peter and Caspian are_ so_ into each other" the whole movie. I mean, clearly the thing with Susan at then end was just a cover-up for their sweet, illicit love, right? Anyway, I may make this into a series of mostly-unrelated Peter/Caspian drabbles, depending on how busy I get/lazy I am. There will probably be at least one more. Tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well, I said I would write more of this, didn't I? (She said, three and a half years later...) Anyway, I was watching _Prince Caspian_ the other day (because I have TiVo now and it's _awesome_) and I was once again struck by just how much sexual tension there is between our boys Peter and Caspian. So, enjoy! There will be one more chapter after this one, most likely coming very soon...

* * *

After the failed break-in at Miraz's castle, Caspian fumed. He knew he couldn't blame Peter for everything that had gone wrong, which was all the more reason why he wanted to. But worse was the way Peter was acting about it, mouth set grimly but still supremely confident that he had done the right thing, leading the Narnians to slaughter.

In the cold grey light of the morning outside Aslan's Howe, Peter threw blame back over his shoulder onto Caspian and Caspian railed, "You could have called it off! There was still time," and then, only then Peter turned to him, looked at him for the first time since crossing the drawbridge.

As they began hurling insults, the crowd around them seemed to fade away, Caspian's world narrowing to a point around Peter. He was unable to see anything but the way Peter's jaw flexed, slightly sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. For a moment, Caspian wanted to brush it to the side, gentle, then he remembered that he hated Peter.

He hardly noticed everyone else slinking quietly inside behind Peter as he said, "You abandoned Narnia."

"You invaded it!" Peter yelled, and when he got to the part about how Narnia was better off without Caspian, Caspian felt his rage unfurl and drew his sword, pressing his advantage at Peter's surprise and driving him back against one of the columns until he sword was at Peter's throat and their bodies were pressed together.

Peter's breath hitched and then quickened for a moment, breaking Caspian's concentration. He looked at Peter's face, and Peter's eyes were on him, mouth slightly open, the hand not squashed between their chests coming to rest on Caspian's waist.

Caspian felt a shudder rip through his belly, not unlike the feeling he got at the start of battle, anticipation and fear and some wild savage joy. Before he could quite sift his mind through what it meant here, now, his sword lowered a notch and Peter's hand left his waist and grabbed the hilt to stop the sword from going through his collarbone.

Softly now, he said, "Caspian, I'm trying to save Narnia," and his thumb stroked Caspian's knuckles, tried to make Caspian lower the sword. The feeling he couldn't account for still tingled in his stomach and he couldn't look in Peter's eyes anymore, it was just too much, so he jerked away quick.

"Well, you're not!" Caspian retorted, cursing himself as he realized he sounded like a petulant child. "You're killing it."

Peter's eyes were downcast now, and he pushed off the column and began to walk toward the entrance of the Howe, saying, "I'd better go see how Trumpkin is doing," leaving Caspian standing there, naked sword dangling to the ground, something unnamable still rushing through him.


	3. Chapter 3

Caspian didn't really have time to examine the swooping sensation in his stomach that continued to plague him whenever he saw Peter, though. They were preparing for war, after all, as well as facing the untold dangers of the past.

But Caspian couldn't stop the feeling from accelerating, filling his ears with rushing sound and sending warmth trickling through his chest when Peter pushed him out of the way, saving him from the White Witch.

Then, Miraz and the Telmarines were there and it was all Caspian could do to think, to plan, to try to survive, and he was suddenly abjectly grateful for Peter and the other King and Queens of old. He tried not to let his heart stop when Peter challenged Miraz, forced himself to watch as their swords clashed again and again.

He thought of their first fight—his and Peter's—in the forest, how they moved so easily together, even trying to kill one another. How he said, "You're different than I expected," not liking or perhaps liking too much the way Peter was just a bit shorter than him, and how steady his eyes were always, whether threatening or commiserating.

Watching Peter fight his uncle, Caspian's heart wanted to spring from his chest and cling to Peter instead, and he swore that if Peter survived the fight—he _had _to survive the fight—he would let it do just that.

* * *

When Caspian refused to kill Miraz, Peter felt such a swell of pride and affection. That and something else that he was learning to name as the same thing that made him watch Caspian, study his profile and crave the touch of his hand, to call it admiration, affection, maybe even love. Peter wasn't sure, but he thought_ maybe_.

After it was all over, battle won and losses counted, he had time to think and that had been what he'd concluded. Of course, it was all for naught, because of course they were going back to England. Every time, just when Peter thought _this time, this time it's forever_.

They rode together in the procession, him and Caspian, sat beside one another at the celebration and Peter thought _why not? Why can't it be forever?_ But he knew: this was not his place, not yet.

He handed his sword to Caspian, fingers clutching, hoping for what he dared not articulate what. Caspian's eyes were sad, but with something frantic in them, especially when Susan said, "We're not coming back."

Then, before he could take Lucy's hand and lead her through the portal, Caspian clasped Peter's hand hard and pulled him in, other hand grasping at Peter's shirtfront.

Heart beating fast, Peter leaned in, aware of Narnians, Telmarines, his family, and Aslan all watching. A tiny brush of lips, that was all Peter felt capable of with the weight of so many eyes on him. But then his hands reached out of their own volition, like they had that day after the first attack, grabbing Caspian to him and pulling him in again. Caspian's mouth was firm, the line just inside his lower lip that Peter swiped with his tongue wet and warm and smooth and perfect as the roughness of Caspian's stubble against Peter's cheeks.

Caspian leaned back, his breathing ragged, but not so far back that their foreheads didn't touch. "You will always be my king," Caspian said, and Peter gave a choked laugh before closing the gap between them once more.

After a moment, though, Peter knew it was time. He turned, walking to meet his brother and sisters, to go back to a place just a little less full than this one, feeling Caspian's eyes—Caspian's hands and Caspian's lips—on him the whole way there.

The End


End file.
